


Peace in Silence

by NAOA



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Feelings, Love, No Dialogue, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22182340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NAOA/pseuds/NAOA
Summary: One early morning between Gambit and Rogue, during which neither of them speak. -Oneshot
Relationships: Remy LeBeau/Rogue
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Peace in Silence

**Author's Note:**

> This was written back in 2013

Rogue reached over across the pillow and touched Gambit's cheek. She didn't need to see to know, she could feel through her gloves that he had not been shaving. She could feel the roughness of his cheek and the coarseness of the bristles beneath her fingers. She didn't need to see but she turned to look at him anyway and she was right. Her eyes studied the stubble and the lines of the skin beneath it. She tried to take in everything and he was watching her vibrant green eyes with steady curiosity and she marveled at how they didn't waver or flicker.

He reached over and touched her cheek with his two gloved fingers. She could have wept. She wanted so badly to feel his skin. She closed her eyes as he let his fingers fall to her hair. When she opened them, his eyes were still the same fixed steadiness as before. She felt a faint blush filter over her face yet she would not allow herself to break away.

He smelled like cigarettes and she breathed in the smell as deeply as she could because it had been so long since she'd smelled it. She thought that 'smell' might be a more powerful sense than sight. A smell could bring back a whole world or forever implant a memory in you. She'd read stories of amnesics regaining lost memories because of smells, they were so powerful. She loved his smell because no one else smelled the way he did. She looked at his eyes, they were deep and thoughtful and she wondered what sort of thoughts he was thinking.

She looked at his lips. How she wished she could kiss them. The few times she had. . . she could hardly describe them. She reached over across the bed they lay on and brushed her thumb over his bottom lip. God she might die if she never got to kiss them again. He started to say something but she put a hand over his mouth. She didn't want it ruined and then she rolled over and got out of bed.

He lay back and watched her. In the dark early hours of the morning he'd joined her in bed. Not said a word, just slipped in next to her. She'd gotten up only once to put on a pair of gloves and when she'd returned they'd lain there holding hands, wrapped in a suspended moment of peace and perfection. The world had held still for them. The morning was dark and they were alone. Even the creaking of the sleeping house around them had added to the sense of removal. In her room, they didn't feel as though they were still part of the house.

Those early hours before dawn were a dimension all of their own. There had been crickets chirping outside and a heavy blanket of quiet and still all around. Peace.

In the darkened room he watched her get dresses, unabashed and unapologetic. He watched her every movement and it was not out of perversion that he watched her, it was out of appreciation. Appreciation for her grace and her beauty. She slipped into jeans and put a finger to her lips. Yellow gloved, teasing. She beckoned with it and he came, like a dog who's whistle had been blown. He rose from the bed and took her hand as they slipped outside. Down the hall and out the front door. The house was still and dark. No one else was awake yet.

Outside, the chill, pail, almost dusty early morning light of dawn illuminated the grounds. Fog hung in the air and even though the birds had not yet begun to sing, the crickets were finishing their chorus. Only a few faint pin pricks of stars remained in the sky. The two of them hustled down to the boat house and stood on the dock, gazing out at the misty lake and the lightening sky.

She hugged her jacket closer and he drew nearer. She had wanted to come out and be alone with him. He whispered in her ear but she didn't hear. She hadn't been listening for words. She was startled when he drew off to the boat house. She stood alone on the dock, hugging herself from the cold. She looked out across the lake and felt a seldom felt rush of contentment. It was in small times like these that she could forget the world. She looked around the grounds which night was leaving and was startled when something draped across her shoulders.

He had come back. He had gotten dressed and brought with him a blanket. She sat down and shared it with him. He'd come from an even warmer place than she had. She didn't shiver but she was glad that he'd brought the blanket. He wasn't sleeping in the boat house anymore but he'd left some clothes there. She leaned against him, he was warm and she was careful when she laid her head against his shoulder. He didn't want to do something awful and ruin the moment.

She felt his sigh as she kicked her feet a little, letting them hang over the end of the dock. Her feet kicked his and she let them say for moment. Her body pressing against his. They could see the sun starting to rise. Beautiful and brilliant yet misty and almost veiled. They watched it, not speaking and not looking t each other. They didn't have to. His arm was around her shoulder and she could feel him plying with her hair. Knitting his fingers into the ends of the lengths. Winding the curls around his fingers.

As the sun crept higher, the first birds of day took over where the crickets had left off. Their twerps and chirps began in a slowly building symphony, staggered and building until they were all around and the mist began to glow with the light of early morning. Rogue didn't want to move. She wanted to stay with him. Her voice was caught in the back of her throat and she was unsure if she could use it. The silence was so perfect. She lay against him and he against her.

She felt him shiver once and she willed him to warm. She clutched the blanket more tightly and gazed out across the lake. They could see the first lights of morning preparation begin to flicker on in the mansion. People's rooms light up and their windows illuminated in tiny squares. A yellow patchwork was forming and fading, melting in with the growing sun light. As her eyes became more accustomed to the light and she began to wish it away.

Her perfect hour was slipping by.

She twisted her leg around his and sighed. Soon they would have to go in and the day would commence and it would be as though the early morning peace had never happened. Not until the next time would the feelings be there. There where there were no people to impress, no need for acts or defenses or words. There where she could slip and be herself, be a self she only let him see. Be a self just for him.

And he was there too, wasn't he? Being quiet for once. Giving her her peace and tranquility. Too often they fought. Too often they bickered. She loved the moments they could be at peace. She loved them. She loved that they could find respite from arguments because really, even though she had come to know that it would never be perfect, there would always be moments when they fought, there would be moments of love too and those were the moments that she treasured.

He shifted slightly, covering his shoulder with the blanket. He was glad he'd sneaked into er room that morning. She could lock her door and bar her windows but she couldn't keep him out. He'd find a way. He always did. He held her gently and tightly at the same time. Loving her. He didn't speak because he knew she didn't want him to and he could understand how powerful moment could be, even without words. He felt his face lift into a smile and was conscious of it being the first smile of the day. That made him smile wider.

It was almost fully light now and the world around them was bright. The early morning light that was sharp and clean. Crisp and wicked. Noon light was soft and yellow but morning was stabbing and white. The light touched the lake and the dock and then them and they were wrapped in it, just as they were in the blanket.

Rogue imagined that she could hear the sounds of morning in the mansion. She imagined that she could her people coming down the stares. She imagined that people were breaking out the bowls and someone was cooking eggs and someone still was brewing coffee. She sighed and with regret, stood. She let the blanket fall from her shoulders and down round him and then he looked up and met her eyes. They were sad. She was sad to let her morning end. She offered him her hand and he took it, allowing her to guide him up and they held hands up to the mansion.

The others were up and bustling about. Spoons and bowls were clinking and people were talking. She gave him one last look of deep meaning before putting her hand on the kitchen door but just as she did so, he caught her up and buried his face in her hair. Kissed it and let her go. She held his gaze for a moment longer and he winked. She broke into a smile and took his hand pushing open the door.

And just like that, there moment was gone, at least until the next one came.


End file.
